


Spoiling for a Fight

by Brokenwords



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: All The Tropes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Choking, Do they really hate each other though?, FBI agents, Hate Sex, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Mild S&M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Under-negotiated Kink, very very mild mentions of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:28:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25489258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brokenwords/pseuds/Brokenwords
Summary: The anger in Steve’s eyes melded into something a little different. A confusion sparking then disappearing into something hotter, and Steve crowded even closer. Bucky swallowed as the evidence of what Steve was doing to him was pressed all up against the man in question. He closed his eyes and tilted his head up the best he could with a deflated “fuck this.” Yanking with both hands, Bucky dislodged Steve’s arm across his throat, then reached up and grabbed a fistful of hair to drag Steve closer, mouth mashing in a far from elegant connection of teeth and tongue.Recently assigned FBI partners Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes don't always see eye to eye. After a mission gone wrong, tensions snap.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 49
Kudos: 212





	Spoiling for a Fight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Weaponized](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weaponized/gifts).



Bucky glared at the wall millimeters from his face. Squirming and feeling hips press into him from behind, he strained at the firm grip on his wrists, pressed tightly to the small of his back. One eye smarted and felt bloody where a fist had broken skin. He tried to blink it away. Adrenaline was making his skin buzz, pumping blood through his veins and sparking heat over his skin. The sudden onslaught of lust made him shudder. This was wrong. He hated Steve. He hated even more that he was pinned to the wall, helpless, underneath his so-called partner. It was rare that someone got the better of him. The fact that Steve always seemed able to pissed him off beyond belief. The fact that Steve had given away his position in the field tonight only made it that much fucking worse. 

He was shoved harder into the wall, one knee sliding between his and a voice muttered “Fucking calm down Barnes.” 

“Let go of me,” he snarled.

“Why?” Steve hissed back. “So you can continue throwing weak punches at me in a locker room? I’m not the one who bailed mid-mission and left every exit in the place open.”

Bucky’s vision went red as he began to struggle anew. “Me?” he all but shouted? “Me? I’m not the one that gave away my fucking partner’s position. That was all you, you self-righteous son of a bitch.” 

The weight against him abruptly released and Bucky almost fell backwards at the sudden release. He whirled around, only to be slammed back into the brick wall, a thick forearm squeezing dangerously high against his collarbone and throat. Bucky’s fingers scrambled uselessly against it. “You,” Steve spat in his face. “Defied a direct order-” 

“Direct order?” Bucky interrupted, incredulous. “You sanctimonious bastard. This isn’t the army anymore, _Cap._ Do you understand the meaning of _partners_? You don’t give me goddam orders.”

“There was a plan!” Now Steve was shouting. Christ it was a good thing they’d waited until they were back at the bureau before getting into it or their cover would have been blown to pieces. As it was, they were lucky the locker room was empty and the door locked or they’d probably both be facing some serious disciplinary action. 

Bucky scoffed, “Your plan! And in case you hadn’t noticed, your plan was a shitfest the second we walked into that joint.” The arm across his throat dug deeper and for a second Bucky’s vision wavered. “You gonna choke me now?” he croaked out. “That get you going?” He was playing with fire and he knew it. 

Steve eased up but didn’t let go. His face was flushed, fierce blue eyes glaring daggers into Bucky’s and fuck, Bucky needed to get laid. He should not be finding Steve attractive right now. He was pissed off. He had every right to be pissed off. That didn’t mean his body didn’t find the whole being-manhandled thing hot. He squirmed under Steve’s stare, trying desperately not to break eye contact.

With a huff Steve loosened up his hold a little more. “Why can’t you just fucking listen for once,” He hissed.

“Why don’t you make me,” the words just slipped out. Bucky was a confrontational person and pushing buttons was second nature to him. He didn’t mean to actually invite _making_. He’d swear on his death bed he didn’t.

The anger in Steve’s eyes melded into something a little different. A confusion sparking then disappearing into something hotter, and Steve crowded even closer. Bucky swallowed as the evidence of what Steve was doing to him was pressed all up against the man in question. He closed his eyes and tilted his head up the best he could with a deflated “fuck this.” Yanking with both hands, Bucky dislodged Steve’s arm across his throat, then reached up and grabbed a fistful of hair to drag Steve closer, mouth mashing in a far from elegant connection of teeth and tongue. 

Steve tensed, Steve prepared for a knee, for some sort of trick but there was none. Just Bucky kissing him, demanding he be kissed back and with a low groan Steve gave in. 

"This doesn't mean you were right," Bucky hissed as a thigh wedged between his own. Dropping his fingers downwards he clawed at large shoulders, still tugging closer instead of pulling away. He deliberately wasn’t thinking, he just knew he couldn’t beat Steve, not like this at least. And as much as he hated him, he’d almost died tonight and all that anger and adrenaline needed relief, release, something. 

"Bucky Barnes? Agree with me? I can’t even imagine it," Steve replied, getting with the program at the speed of a man who had dick on the brain. His eyes were already dark and amused and flickering with a hell of a lot more as he threaded one large hand in Bucky's hair and tugged his head to the side, freeing smooth skin to his mouth.

Bucky groaned as teeth nipped at his neck and the thigh pressed closer. "Fuck. You’re going to leave marks."

"That’s the point," Steve grinned against skin then bit down again, _hard_ , before releasing flesh and soothing it with his lips. "Unless you prefer I treated you gentle, princess..."

Steve barely caught the knee aimed for his groin after that. He clamped his thighs down around the offending appendage and hissed, "I don't think you want to do that again Barnes." 

Eyes glinted as Bucky smirked, then gasped when Steve all but lifted him off the ground. He didn't know what he was doing, just that it felt good. Steve wasn't even his type, too morally upright, with a stick shoved so far up his ass it was amazing he could sit. Usually Bucky liked his men a lot faster and looser. But his body didn’t seem to care what his brain thought, especially when Steve hauled him bodily from the floor. It was almost humiliating the way he was so easily picked up. Bucky wasn’t small, he wasn’t some twink that could be thrown around. But Steve didn’t seem to notice or care, he treated the body in his hands like it was a hundred pounds lighter and moved it with ease.

“You keep gripping my thighs like that, you won’t get to find out how good they’ll feel around your waist,” Bucky eventually growled.

It was a challenge and Steve knew it, just like Bucky knew Steve couldn’t resist. Pulling back just slightly, enough to look Bucky in the eye, he pressed their mouths together, almost viciously and breathed lowly, "I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll think the beating I just gave you was kind." 

Bucky wasn't a masochist, he wasn't, but something about Steve's words, the out of character cursing mixed with the surety they were spoken with, it made him shiver. Pleasure mingled with a slight thread of fear. He shoved the fear down, and narrowed his gaze. "You can try."

The next second Bucky was being dropped, Steve pulling away and letting him fall. His knees nearly gave out and he blinked in shock, hurt just barely registering. Was Steve going to leave? Had he said the wrong thing? Before he could do more than think it however, his hand was being caught and he was being _dragged_ across the floor, tripping and sliding behind Steve.

"What the-"

The grin thrown at him over a broad shoulder was full of teeth. It was just as well they vacated the premises, Bucky realised belatedly, becaused it didn't take a genius to know the locker room at work was the wrong place to fuck.

Steve's apartment wasn’t far however, and the walk there was almost normal, except for the strange, iron grip on Bucky’s elbow. Steve maneuvered him easily, tightening his fingers any time Bucky seemed on the verge of pulling away.

When they reached the dark corridor leading to Steve’s front door, all of ten minutes later, Bucky could still feel anger and lust fighting against his every breath. It seemed Steve was suffering a similar frustration though, as before they even reached the apartment unit, Steve was slithering deft fingers under his jacket, and digging not-so-blunt nails into Bucky’s hip bones as he pushed him along the hallway. Hot lips fastened to the nape of his neck.

“Ugh,” was all Bucky could manage when he was pushed face-first into the door. He heard Steve dig around for his keys and wondered if he should be putting up a little more token resistance. His cheek felt numb against the wood and paint. It was a soothing gap in the fiery heat that seemed to have taken over the rest of his body.

When Steve turned the door handle, Bucky was jolted hard and felt his cheek take a bruise. Steve didn’t seem to notice or care, however, he merely manhandled Bucky into his apartment, followed him inside, and slammed the door behind them.

For several seconds there was silence in the dim entryway. Just two people staring at each other, blood pumping and logic missing. Steve moved first. Stepping forward and causing Bucky to stumble backwards. One step, two, three, four, deeper into the room. The edge of an unfamiliar couch hit the back of Bucky's knees and his pulse kicked up a notch. He told himself he wasn't afraid, that the tremble that ran through him had nothing to do with the feral look Steve was giving him. 

Steve saw the flash of trepidation however and he paused, only for a second. Just long enough to reach down and drag off his own shirt. "Last chance to run." 

The words were mocking and Bucky's temper flared anew. Steve had already had his tongue down his throat and practically rubbed one off on him in a semi-public hallway. If Bucky had a problem, he surely would have made it known before now. Wiggling until he could get his knees under him, he reached up and snagged an arm around Steve's neck to pull him down to his level. Nose to nose he snarled, “I don’t want to insult you, Rogers,” his tone making it very clear that he actually wanted to do nothing but insult Steve, “but there’s no one for you to rat me out to right now, so I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve bristled, hesitation instantly forgotten, and his fingers instantly clasping harshly around Bucky’s throat, “Politeness is wasted on you, as usual.”

“Don’t give me that false respect bullshit, and don’t treat me like I'm some sort of wilting coward,” Bucky hissed.

"Mm," Steve half heartedly agreed, too busy pushing Bucky down to bother with a proper answer. After all, Steve _wasn’t_ being very respectful and Bucky was far from a coward. In fact, the only thing Steve had ever seen him truly afraid of was his own memories and Steve could hardly blame him for that. Ghosts had no real substance to fight against. 

Sliding his hands under the too tight shirts Bucky was prone to wear, calloused palms and rough fingertips brushed against soft skin and pushed fabric up infinitely slowly. Bucky tugged harder on Steve’s neck, demanding. Chuckling deep, Steve leaned back and untangled Bucky’s fingers, grabbing strong wrists and pinning them above Bucky's head before he pulled a set of handcuffs off his utility belt and dangled them threateningly. “Stay,” he grunted “Or I’ll tie you down.” 

Bucky glared but he didn’t move. From there Steve systematically stripped the body underneath him, starting with unclipping the gun still holstered at Bucky’s side and miraculously undrawn and dropping it messily on the side table, then moving on to exposing pale flesh that glimmered in the light from windows. Pants were peeled down thick thighs and discarded, before long legs were trapped between a stronger set. Bucky's shirt was left shoved under his armpits. And through it all Steve made sure to touch every inch he uncovered. It wasn't gentle but it was thorough and by the time he was done Bucky was practically panting. He was still pissed off too, clear in the way he glared, squirmed. He wanted to touch to make it even, curl his fingers into muscles and leave his own marks. Steve could see it in the way wrists flexed and arms strained with the effort of holding back. 

Steve took pity and fastened one large hand back around Bucky’s two wrists, watching a glorious flush touch his neck. Lowering his head to brush first his lips and then his teeth over a jutting collar bone, Steve began nipping, licking. He drew his palm over a flat stomach and up Bucky's length. 

The friction made Bucky groan and he bucked his hips unconsciously. The drag of dry skin on dry skin however suddenly had him wondering how this was going to work. He'd seen Steve naked enough times in the locker room to know that this wasn't going to be easy and if it went that far, saliva wouldn't be even close to enough. Cursing lowly he tugged on his hands again, eyes fluttering as he was stroked again. Squeezing them shut, jaw clenching, he hissed a plead out through his teeth, "Please tell me you've done this before." He’d never seen Steve even look at another man before. 

Steve snorted, "I'm pretty sure I know how to fuck."

Eyes snapping open, hot and as pissed off as they'd been all day, Bucky glared. He knew Steve knew what he meant, he could tell by the laughter in his eyes. "A man?" he snapped.

Twisting his wrist, eliciting another strangled moan, Steve arched an eyebrow and more seriously, replied, "Does it look like I don't know what I am doing?" 

"I'll answer that when you show me something to make this a bit easier." 

Still laughing, Steve bent down to give Bucky a mocking kiss, lewd and wet, then pulled away and rolled off, releasing Bucky's wrists. He padded across the floor, and grabbed a small tub out of the bathroom, tossing it to the figure on the couch along with a condom. "Will that do?" He asked as he moved back to sit on the coffee table and lean down to tug off his boots. They hit the floor with two solid thuds and he left them there, standing to unzip his pants, place his own gun, much more carefully, onto the table and finally turn back to the figure, suddenly almost vulnerable looking on the cushions. 

Bucky had sat back up, his shirt sliding down and unfortunately covering Steve's view. He was also watching Steve from between eyelashes as he opened the tub and dipped his fingers in to test the substance. "It’s oil based, for massage. Says it can be used for sex on it, should be safe," Steve explained gruffly.

Giving a jerky nod, not liking the sudden change in atmosphere, Bucky shrugged as nonchalantly as possible and muttered, "Are you just going to stand there or are you going to fuck me as promised?"

"Just making sure I pass muster," Steve retorted. 

"This does," Bucky held up the tub, "You... I still hate you." 

It shouldn't have stung, Steve was made of stronger stuff than that, but it still did, just a bit. He knew Bucky disliked him, hell he didn't even blame him for it. He'd be pissed if he was suddenly assigned a new partner too, hell he had been. Only, over the last few months they'd developed an almost friendly rapport - at least until tonight’s shit show - and now they were about to tumble into bed together. And yet he was still hated. It was a screwed up situation and part of him knew this would be a mistake, that he should stop it now and not go through with it now that the lust from earlier had calmed down a bit. But he wouldn't, because he wanted this, because Bucky had provoked him and somehow he thought maybe they both needed this. Besides, he didn't hate Bucky, he respected him, wanted to take away some of the anger and pain reflected in black eyes. The man just had a way of pushing his buttons and causing Steve to lose all semblance of sense. 

Forcing the words to roll off his shoulders he slid back onto the couch, drawing his hands up Bucky's thighs and roughly hauling them over his own where he knelt on the cushions. The action caused Bucky to tip backwards and he fell with a slight yelp followed by a curse. Steve ignored it in favor of taking the lube from Bucky's tight grip and coating his fingers with it. Hauling Bucky just a bit higher, he remarked as emotionlessly as possible, "It’s a good thing it doesn't matter if we like each other or not then isn't it."

"Mm," this time it was Bucky's turn to agree and he arched his spine as he said it, vertebrae bending as two thick fingers slid inside him and scissored in a way just shy of too harsh. It stung and felt good and he let himself revel in the feeling. How long had it been since he'd let himself have this? How long had it been since he’d let someone bend him over, let someone see him in any state of vulnerability? 

Twisting his hips in time with the stretching pulse of Steve’s fingers inside him, he banished melancholy thoughts from his head and shuddered as Steve brushed the right spot inside him, biting his lip to keep from crying out. Instead he just demanded, "More."  
Another finger, enough to make it burn. Bucky ignored it and clamped his legs around a broad waist, suddenly done with preparation. Steve took the hint and pulled his hand free, sliding on the condom and using the contents of the tub to slick himself before shifting them both, making himself more comfortable between Bucky's thighs. Then he paused. 

Bucky recognized the look in his eyes, one of almost there concern. The waiting for permission. Bucky didn't want to have to verbally give it. Didn't want that sort of gentleness. He just wanted release. "Don't," his eyes were wide and yet full of shadows as Steve braced himself above him and waited.

Confusion flickered over Steve's features and so Bucky tried again. "I'm not a lover, don't treat me like one." 

Clarity sparked in eyes along with another emotion Bucky didn't want to contemplate, not as features shut down and turned almost cold and he was lifted up roughly, spun onto his hands and knees. 

When Steve pushed in he wasn't gentle. If Bucky just wanted a body to fuck him, a release from the tension that had built up between them, then Steve wouldn't treat him like he normally would a lover. He wouldn't be considerate, he would be as rough and dominating as he had been the first few minutes this had started when anger and lust were still pumping. Both emotions were easy enough to dredge up again.

He didn’t wait or give his partner room to adjust either. Just a few seconds to catch his own breath at the squeezing tightness before he began a sharp quick pace. Draw out, slam back in, hard.

The barely restrained violence had Bucky gasping for breath, fingers fisting tight in the cushions and tears stinging his eyes at the pain. Thankfully the physical drowned out the emotional, sharp burning stretch that radiated through his limbs. Bucky revelled in it drowning in the sensations of lust. 

Swallowing the sob of need, he burrowed his face between his forearms and pushed back. He may have all but asked Steve to use him as a toy but that didn’t mean he was going to be a passive participant. 

Growling lowly at the response, Steve squeezed the flesh under his hands tighter, fingers digging deep into hips. It was with a sick sort of pleasure that he watched pale skin bloom red and he knew that in the morning there would be bruises. There was satisfaction in knowing Bucky would bear his marks, would be walking around with evidence that for once he’d submitted to Steve. He wanted Bucky to remember this. Remember that it was Steve that had fucked him. Steve who he hated, Steve who he thought could never break any rule. Hell he was breaking all the rules right now by fraternizing with his partner. And not just simple sex, but violent, bruising, holding him down fucking. 

It was not like any sex Steve had partaken in before. He was usually a careful lover, wary of his size and hurting the person beneath him. Bucky however, Steve wanted to both hurt and comfort. He wanted to see what was hidden behind the shadows in his partner’s eyes while at the same time the man made him so angry sometimes he wanted to strangle him. They were supposed to work together. Instead every day was a battle. Steve was used to respect, to having his men look up to him on the battlefield. He wasn’t used to having his every word questioned. Just the thought of how the night had gone was enough to make his fingers clench and he heard Bucky hiss. 

Easing up his grip he dragged one hand over a smooth spine, before settling on the nape of Bucky’s neck. “Is this what you wanted?” he snarled. He could see tears in the corners of Bucky’s eyes where his face was smushed into the cushions and Steve’s heart flipped in his chest. The vulnerability of the image beneath him made Steve want to stop, slow down, sooth. 

Instead of a plea for mercy however, all Steve got was a short burst of wild laughter bubbling from Bucky’s lips even as he bit back a sob of pain and need.

“That all you got?” Bucky taunted, biting his own lip and drawing blood as fingers tangled in his hair and hauled him backwards. 

Inside Steve seethed. Every single time he felt something, Barnes just had to go and shove it in his face. Wrapping his other hand around a vulnerable throat he squeezed menacingly. “You just can’t shut up can you.” 

*

Bucky hurt. His limbs were sore and his throat burned. He was sure if he tried to talk it wouldn’t come out as anything but a barely there rasp. There were bruises littering his skin and he ached deep inside. True to Bucky’s want, Steve hadn’t treated him gently. He’d been just shy of cruel, taking what he wanted with a violent sort of purpose and when they were done, bodies sticky and arms shaky, he’d simply rolled off and walked away; off to shower without a word. 

Bucky had watched him go through his lashes, face still half buried in the cushions, cheeks wet. It was everything he’d wanted so why, as he stiffly sat up and shifted to the edge, aftershocks of pleasure and pain making his hands tremble, did he feel abandoned now. Biting his lower lip, already raw and split from Steve’s rough kisses and his own teeth, he tugged down his shirt and reached for his pants and gun. He could hear the hiss of water start and against his will he felt a thread of desire to join the other form in his gut. 

Stuffing it away, Bucky stood on shaky legs, redressed, and without a look at the messed up cushions, walked to the door. What did he care what Steve did? He’d given Bucky what he wanted, he’d fucked him and it’d been good, better than good. So what if Steve’s expression had been almost hurt when Bucky reminded him they weren’t lovers. Bucky didn’t care. They weren’t lovers. They never would be. They were work partners only because they’d been forced into it when Bucky’s last partner had… fuck Bucky wasn’t going to think about Nat. So what if him and Steve had fucked. It hadn’t meant anything other than a way to get rid of some built up aggression. There was no love, not even liking, and that was perfect.

* 

In the shower, under the hot spray, Steve did his best to fight the urge to punch the wall. He’d been angry before, blood pumping and head clouded with rage that melded into vicious lust. Bucky was the perfect outlet, just as angry and just as wanting. Only it hadn’t helped, and despite the way he’d pushed Bucky’s face down against the rough fabric of the couch, degrading him like he’d asked to be treated, in the end all he’d really wanted to do was flip him back around and see him fall apart. 

Now Steve was just as pissed off as before, but this time it was at himself and the body he’d left on the couch. He was furious with himself for slipping into the role he’d taken, disrespectful and careless. He was pissed at Bucky for demanding he take that role, for sleeping with a man he hated just to burn off the frustration that so obviously controlled him. 

Unlike what some thought, Steve lived by a code. He did his duty, arrested those that broke the law, killed when it was unavoidable, but he wasn’t cold. Unlike some of his fellow agents, he was never the type to just tumble into someone’s bed. And now he’d taken part in a cheap anger fuelled fuck with a man who hated him. A man he had to work with day in and day out. A man he wanted desperately to respect him. 

Grunting softly, Steve slammed his palm into the shower wall and shouted, a short rage filled cry.

Outside, Bucky flinched as he reached the door. Pausing for only a second before sliding through the entrance and slipping down the hall, pride and body stinging.

**Author's Note:**

> Ummmm, why not join the fandom with a random hate-fueled smutty story?  
> I took a very long break from writing fanfiction (aka years) and now I am trying to get back into the swing of things so please be kind! 
> 
> If you wanna hang out and talk Stucky join me on twitter @brokenintowords


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